


Introduction - The Job

by The_last_airblender



Series: Run [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 03:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_last_airblender/pseuds/The_last_airblender
Summary: While the Razor Crest is being repaired on the planet of Duugan, someone offers the Mandalorian a job...- The set up for how you and Din will come to meet!
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Run [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213391
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Introduction - The Job

The Razor Crest shook and creaked while it unsteadily landed on the platform. As the engines came to a halt, they almost sounded relieved to have made it to the dodgy-looking spaceship repair shop deep in the hills of the planet Duugan. A man with rough, purple skin and two horns sticking out of his head walked up to the ship, wiping his hands on his leather apron as the Mandalorian jumped down.

‘Thought I recognised this old beauty’, the man greeted. 'Long time no see, Mando.’

'Weyfel.’ Din shook his hand. 

A dry wind blew through the workyard, which was littered with parts, while the mechanic inspected the ship with a frown. 'What have you done to her this time?!’

'Ran into some bad weather’, he answered shortly.

'Of course you did. Well, it is gonna take some time to fix her’, Weyfel said, scratching his head. 'At least four days, by the looks of it.’

Din nodded. 'I thought as much. I’ll just get my stuff and be out of your way.’

'It’s gonna cost ya, Mando’, the mechanic warned. 'I hope the bounty hunting business has been treating you well.’

He didn’t get an answer as Din turned around to collect his bag and weapons. A few minutes later, he came out again, blasters in his holsters and a rifle strapped to his back. Two bags hung from his shoulders, one of which was covered by his cape. Weyfel wasn’t blind, however, and as Din passed him, his cape moved just enough in the wind to reveal a pointy, green ear sticking out of the bag. 

'I don’t remember you having a pet with you last time’, he called after the Mandalorian, who ignored him as he left the workyard. He shrugged, turned around and shouted towards the garage: 'Hey! We got work to do, you lazy pieces of scrap!’

A wobbly droid and a young man with a mechanic arm and grease on his forehead came running out. 

The latter took one look at the ship and then at the workyard, empty except for the metal echoes of long gone spaceships, waiting for a new purpose. 

'Is he gone?’, he asked, disappointed. 

Weyfel shoved him towards the Crest. 'Yes, and you’ll be next if you don’t get your ass to work! I want that thing looking good as new when he gets back!’

~

Din stretched his legs under the wooden inn table while the kid clumsily sipped his dinner from a bowl that looked huge in his tiny hands. It had taken him two hours to walk to the nearest town and after three days in space, his legs had protested loudly against the sudden exercise. The sore muscles longed for a bath, but he doubted that this fairly dry planet offered such a luxury to the guests of this inn, which looked no less sketchy than Weyfel’s repair shop. Not that he doubted the mechanic’s skills -he had saved the Crest from worse states than its current one and while his business might not be entirely legal in the eyes of many, there was nothing dodgy about his repair work. Sure, Din’s inventory wouldn’t be entirely as he left it, but that was a price he was willing to pay for discretion, which had been important to him for a long time, but was especially vital now Moff Gideon was after the child. He looked at his little companion and tried to imagine what his life would look like if Din had just left him with the scientists. Would he have survived their experiments? What did they want with him anyway? He remembered them saying something about the kid’s blood, but he had no idea what use it would be to them. What was so special about this little one that Gideon would send an entire army after them? 

Din’s train of thought came to an abrupt halt as somebody sat down at their table. He turned his head to the hooded man opposite of him, his hand going to his blaster, while he quickly assessed the threat. The man seemed unarmed, but it was hard to see in the half dark of the dimly lit inn. The guests at the other table didn’t seem to notice anything and kept eating and talking. The child looked up, deemed their guest less important than his dinner and went on with his slurping. The man looked over his shoulder and then moved to take off his hood. Din tensed, ready to shoot if the stranger proved a threat to the kid, and kept his eyes on the man as the hood revealed a chubby, pale face, a bald head and a glimpse of an expensive-looking tunic. Roaming through these parts of town in clothes like that, with just a hooded cape as a disguise, was bound to get you robbed, so this man was either stupid, oblivious or desperate -or maybe all three. 

He looked at the Mandalorian with the air of somebody who was used to being obeyed. A figure of authority, Din guessed, or maybe some kind of nobleman. 

'I heard you are the best bounty-hunter in the galaxy’, the man started. 

Din stayed silent, neither confirming nor denying the statement. The man placed his hands on the table, fiddling with his golden ring and looking over his shoulder every few seconds.

'My name is Lor Signas,’ he continued in a hushed tone, 'I am the mayor of this town. I need you to track someone down.’

'Take it up with the guild’, Din said coldly.

Whenever someone came up to him with a job, he referred them to the guild first, to see how truly desperate that person was. If he was going to risk doing a job outside the guild, he was going to make sure it would be worth it. Often, people backed out as soon as he did so, but not this time. 

'There’s no time. I can pay you’, Signad whispered. 'Your ship is damaged, right? I can pay for the repairs.’

'I can pay for my own repairs’, he said.

Din silently swore. How did he know that? Even for a mayor, having this information this quickly was strange. Apparently, Weyfel’s workplace wasn’t secluded enough. So much for staying under the radar.

'I’ll give you whatever you want.’

Din considered it for a second. He could use the money; knowing Weyfel, the repairs weren’t going to be cheap. He could use some supplies, as well. 

'What’s the job?’, he asked.

'A prisoner escaped earlier today’, Signad told him. 'Killed three guards in the process. Last I heard, she managed to catch a ride on a cargo ship to Lossith, a neighbouring planet.’

'I know where it is’, Din said. 'Why don’t you send your guards after her?’

'Let’s just say that I have a name to uphold’, the man said with gritted teeth, the sheer memory of the events of today making his blood boil all over again. 'Besides, that bunch of amateurs proved no match for those bloody knives of hers. Look, I can’t have a scandal on my hands right now, not now the townsfolk are getting fussy about the new tax rates.’ He put his hand in his pocket and placed a purse on the table, the sound of jingling credits unmistakable. There was enough in there to pay for the repairs thrice, Din estimated.

Signad looked over his shoulder again before leaning forward, thankful for the dark corner the Mandalorian had chosen. 'I need someone to bring her back without half the galaxy hearing about it. Will you do it or not?’

Din considered it for a minute longer. 

'Fine’, he decided. 'But I’m going to need a spaceship.’

'No problem’, Signad said, visibly relieved. 'You can even get one of my own.’

Since the kid had finished his dinner and started getting sleepy, Din got up to go to his room to put him to bed and eat something himself within the privacy of four walls and a locked door. 'You can get me the details along with the ship in the morning.’

For a moment, it seemed as if Signad was going to protest and demand he’d leave for Lossith immediately, but upon seeing the Mandalorian towering over him with his beskar armour and various weapons strapped to him, he agreed wisely. Din started to walk away, but then turned around for a second. 

'What was she in for?’, he asked.

That kind of information could be helpful for assessing the kind of bounty he would be going after, although the three dead guards were already a pretty good indicator that it wouldn’t be a tax evader he’d be chasing. 

Signad clenched his fists before looking up at him with a raging fire in his eyes. 'She killed my wife.’


End file.
